


Wasted and Wounded

by sakuranomi808



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuranomi808/pseuds/sakuranomi808
Summary: Written for SPN kink meme prompt: Sam/Dean, first time, kiss it better. Dean has been kissing Sammy's booboos better since he was tiny but now the kid's growing up fast and Dean says that at 14 his brother is WAY too old for it which is true, but also Dean desperately wants to kiss him in very non brotherly ways. On a hunt Sam gets his chest and stomach cut up pretty bad, he's clearly in pain as Dean cleans and stitches the wounds. He's trying not to cry and it breaks Dean's heart to see so as a joke he kisses one of the wounds, then another and another. Soon he realises Sam's turned on by it and starts to point to which cuts hurt most, then he points to spots on his body that aren't even injured. Dean knows he shouldn't keep going but he does because Sammy is asking and he's a good big brother.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 157





	Wasted and Wounded

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Bon Jovi song "Bed of Roses", since that song is obviously about Sam and Dean :D

Dean’s heart clenched hard in his chest as he kicked the motel room door shut behind them. This was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever done and he was raging mad: at himself, at Dad, at that fucking thing with the claws that had attacked Sam. He and Dad never should have gone after it, not when Sam was with them, not when Sam was just barely fourteen years old.

Sam was putting on a brave face but he was clearly struggling to keep it together as Dean carefully guided him to sit down on the edge of the bed. Sam’s fist curled around Dean’s forearm, instinctively trying to keep him from leaving, even though Dean was only going into the bathroom to get some towels and supplies. 

“Be right back,” Dean gave his brother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. "I promise.” 

Sam was sitting perfectly still, exactly where he’d left him when Dean returned a few seconds later and hurriedly laid all the clean towels he could find out on the mattress. He dropped down to his knees and together they peeled away layers of torn, blood-soaked flannel and cotton and denim as Sam hissed and moaned through the pain. Most of the bleeding had stopped at least, but some of the gashes looked pretty deep and were going to need stitches. 

Before Sam could shift over to lie down, Dean grabbed a bottle of whiskey and thrust it between them, imploring wordlessly with pleading eyes. Sam’s own eyes widened but he nodded and grabbed it, blowing out a shaky breath before taking a good, long swig straight from the bottle. It wasn’t exactly the most appropriately timed thought, but Dean couldn’t help a swell of pride when Sam didn’t even flinch at the taste of it. 

Dean looked away, busying himself with threading a needle as Sam gingerly spread himself out on the bed. He was only wearing his cotton briefs now and Dean had to force himself not to look, but instead focus on cleaning and dressing Sam’s wounds. He’d been taking care of Sam his entire life -- changed his diapers when he was a baby, for God’s sake -- and yet something had shifted between them these last few months; something as wonderful as it was dangerous. Dean knew that if he even scratched the surface of it, he’d never be able to dig himself out of this endless pit of love and ache and devotion between them, not in a million years.

And so Dean steadied his hands and worked quickly but thoroughly to clean out each of the wounds criss-crossed over Sam’s chest and stomach. Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight when Dean got to work on stitching up the two deepest cuts just under Sam’s ribcage. Sam was so beautiful like this, blood blooming crimson like rose petals against the white towels beneath him. It was dizzying, confusing to think that Dean could find beauty in so much pain, but then again, hadn’t it always been that way between them?

“Almost done, Sammy,” Dean said as he taped the last strip of gauze to Sam’s stomach.

When Sam blinked his eyes open, they were wet with unshed tears, but he forced a smile anyway. “Thanks, Dean. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

It broke Dean’s heart: knowing that it was basically his fault for letting Sam come on a hunt that he wasn’t ready for, and yet Sam was thanking him for patching him up. He shook his head and lowered his eyes, reaching for the bottle that Sam had left on the nightstand and draining the rest of it. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you. Wish I could kiss it and make it better like when we were little.” 

His head was swimming and he was honestly not sure if it was from the alcohol or the wrongness of it all, but Dean hesitated for just a split-second before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the warm skin just above Sam’s heart. A strangled sound escaped Sam’s lips and his hand swiftly came up to curl around Dean’s arm, holding him there with his head cradled awkwardly against Sam’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” Sam replied, his voice breaking slightly on the words. “Doesn’t even hurt anymore.” 

“Really?” Dean scoffed, lifting his head to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“No,” Sam snorted. “I’m totally lying. But ‘m a little drunk too, so.” 

Dean chuckled at that but he couldn’t help noticing that Sam was now softly running his fingertips up and down Dean’s bicep, just a feather-light touch that was sending all the wrong sensations to all the right places. Dean shifted a bit lower on the bed and pressed another kiss just above the gauze he’d taped to Sam’s torso. Moving down a bit lower, he nudged his nose into the wispy hair just under his brother’s navel and inhaled deeply, his head spinning at the much too arousing scent of blood and sweat and Sam. 

He was well aware that his face was literally inches from his brother’s cock, and when Dean finally gave up on trying not to look, he had to bite back a gasp. Sam was hard and leaking into the thin cotton, the rounded head of his cock nudged right up against the elastic band. Dean’s eyes darted up to meet his brother’s and Sam looked just as freaked out as Dean felt. 

“I don’t-” Sam stammered, wide-eyed and suddenly sober. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why.” 

Dean caught his lip between his teeth and chewed on it for a second, then gave his brother a reassuring smile and asked, “Where else does it hurt?” 

Sam gulped hard and remained silent for a few long moments, only the sound of his ragged breathing filling the space between them. “This one,” he said, tapping gently on the other patch of gauze that Dean had taped to his ribs. But before Dean could do anything, Sam pushed the edge of his briefs down over the jut of one hipbone and said, “And here, too.” 

“Sam,” Dean murmured, part warning and part pleading. Surely Sam knew that there was no turning back, not from this. 

“Please, Dean?” Sam asked, and that’s all it took for Dean to dip his head and kiss his brother’s warm, bare flesh, giving Sam everything he wanted -- just like always. Dean mouthed over the curve of Sam’s hip, dragging his teeth over the skin before soothing over it with his tongue. Sam moaned like pure sin, his free hand coming up to grasp futilely at the short hair on the nape of Dean’s neck. A surge of possessiveness coursed through Dean’s blood at the realization that this was obviously a sensitive spot for Sam, and his brother had chosen to share that secret with him. 

Together, they worked his briefs down and Sam obediently lifted up, letting Dean slip them down and off. Dean had wanted this for so long -- longer than he cared to admit -- but instead of rushing in, he paused to drink in the sight of his beautiful boy laid bare, entirely his for the taking. 

Sam was gorgeous and probably didn’t even realize it. All of Dad’s training along with a perfect balance of teenage hormones had blessed him with strong, lean muscle under miles of creamy, pale skin. There was just a light dusting of hair under his navel, leading down to darker, thicker hair around the base of his dick, but his balls were completely smooth and hairless where they rested heavy against his thighs.

Suddenly and inexplicably nervous, Dean dragged one trembling hand along the underside of his brother’s erection and then gave it a good squeeze, thumbing through the pre-come beading at the tip. Sam bit back another moan and shifted his hips, trying to thrust up into Dean’s fist. Stilling any further movement with his other hand on Sam’s hip, Dean dipped his head and pressed a line of kisses along the side of Sam’s cock, all the way up to the tip where he tentatively sucked the rounded head into his mouth. 

Granted, Dean had never done this before, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for the surge of arousal and emotion at the first taste of his brother’s tangy-sweet pre-come. He instinctively chased after more, digging his tongue into the swollen slit, sucking hard, moaning when he was rewarded with more. Dean was well aware that he had no technique whatsoever, but Sam didn’t seem to care or even notice. His brother had gone incoherent, a filthy string of expletives mixed with Dean’s name on his lips as he begged for more. Dean sank lower, taking down as much of Sam’s length as he could before the tip nudged uncomfortably against his throat and he had to pull back up. He repeated the tentative motion once more, using his hand to work Sam’s spit-slick shaft in tandem with his mouth. 

“Dean,” Sam cried out suddenly. “Oh- I- I’m gonna-” 

He didn’t need to finish his thought. Dean shoved a hand ungracefully down into his own baggy jeans and gave his cock a couple of hard strokes and that was all it took for him to come just as Sam’s orgasm tore through him, his body arching up off the bed as the first spurt of his release flooded Dean’s mouth. Dean bit back a groan and struggled to work them both through it, his own pleasure distracting him for a moment as sparks like lightning raced down his spine. 

Sam kept on coming and coming, though -- and Dean didn’t know what else to do but swallow down everything that his brother had to give. Finally, with just the last few dribbles pulsing from Sam’s softening cock, Dean lifted his head and raised his eyes to meet Sam’s. They both looked a little shell-shocked, but before he could ask the question, Sam said, “I’m okay. I- I wanted this, too. And I’m not drunk, not really.” 

“Yeah. Okay, Sammy,” Dean replied quietly. He smiled again when Sam carefully pushed himself upright and brushed his lips over Dean’s in a gentle, barely-there kiss.


End file.
